


what once was mine

by sleeplessstarryskies



Series: heal what has been hurt [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Ashes Scene in Avengers: Infinity War Part 1, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Tony Stark, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessstarryskies/pseuds/sleeplessstarryskies
Summary: It should've been him... it should've been him.Why wasn't it him?
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: heal what has been hurt [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633225
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	what once was mine

There's ash everywhere: coating the ground, swirling lazily in the air, settling on his clothes, his skin. It's embedded under his nails, encrusted in the lines of his palms. It's in his lungs - the physical representation of his grief slowly suffocating him.

It wouldn't be the first time that one of the people he loves - loved - most has tried to kill him. And that thought, to his broken, grieving mind suddenly strikes him as hilarious, and he chuckles to himself; a hollow raspy laugh rattles through his weary body, the hysteria of a broken man echoing around him, cutting through the stifling silence.

His vision blurs and he mechanically swipes a hand across his eyes, smearing tears and blood and ash. Black dots dance in his peripheral, sight tunneling on the mess - _the remains_ \- on his hands.

They lost. He lost. Tony lost _everything_.

He sways forward, head spinning from blood loss and delirium, and a fiery bolt of pure pain lances up his side, abruptly cutting off his next round of cackling. He gags, fresh hot blood dribbling down his chin, and then vomits, throat burning as he empties his stomach onto the dusty forsaken ground.

He struggles to catch his breath, wheezing faintly, mouth tinged sour from stomach acid. His hands are slick with blood, clutching at the soiled fabric of his jacket; a half-hearted attempt at staunching the blood flow.

(Wouldn't it be best if he just let himself bleed out? It didn't matter anymore - nothing did. He failed and the Time Stone was gone. There were no second chances, no do-overs, not anymore. Why prolong his suffering? The sooner he let go, the sooner he could see Peter again.)

(Would Peter even want to see him again? Would he want to see the man who let him down. Who lied to him. Who let him _die_.)

(Tony wouldn't blame him if he didn't.)

When his breathing steadies, and the frantic pounding of his heart slows, the phantom ringing in his ears returns, the silence consuming him once more; its haunting melody, suffocating in its own sense, a reminder of what's absent - gone, lost, _dead_. He would give anything - everything - just to hear the kid's voice again; to listen to his cheerful, mindless chatter that always managed to drive back the crippling loneliness that accompanied Tony more often than not. He wants to see Peter's smile, warm and sincere; the grin that never failed to brighten his day, chasing away the sadness that lingered like an incoming storm cloud on Tony's horizon.

He can still see Peter's face: wide frightened eyes, pleading for help, begging for Tony to save him - "I don't want to go, sir. Please! Idon'twannago," he cried like the child he is, was - and dirty, sweat damp hair plastered to his paling face, curls crumbling under Tony's fingers as he tried to comfort the boy. The image is burned into the backs of his eyelids and he knows that if he makes it off this planet, if he makes it back to Earth, there won't be a day he goes without seeing his face.

(It's all Tony has left of him - the last memory of the kid. His kid.)

_He wasn't yours_ , taunts the nasty little voice in the back of his head that sounds oddly like his father, _and now he'll never be. You didn't deserve him either way - you ruin everything you touch. You should've cherished him while you had the chance_.

His head throbs as he recalls Peter's hoarse, choked voice; an apology falling from his lips, trying to comfort Tony even when he was the one dying.

God, what a good kid.

He should've held him tighter. He should've told him that he loves - loved, he's gone and he's never coming back no matter how much of his ashes Tony clings to because he failed - him

He should've saved him... but he didn't.

He failed, just like he always has, just like he always does when it matters. He let Peter down when he needed him most, and really Tony should've known better - he should've predicted long ago how this story was going to end. (He's a futurist, after all). The kid was doomed the moment they met, his life cut short when he accepted Tony's offer, when he let this selfish, washed-up, damaged old man into his home, into his life.

Tony was doomed to it seems - doomed to love the courageous, reckless boy with a heart that was just too damn big, too damn kind and gentle for this cruel, unforgiving, undeserving world. Really, Tony should've known better, he should've been stronger for himself, for Peter, for both their sakes - he could've saved them both from heartbreak.

He could've saved Peter's life.

It should've been him... it should've been him.

Why wasn't it him?

(Strange made the wrong choice. This was not victory.)

(Victory would never be this painful.)


End file.
